


savages

by greatduwangs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Piece
Genre: Female Harry Potter, Gen, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Multi, Other, Undecided Relationship(s), basically all the characters but these are the most important
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23855971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatduwangs/pseuds/greatduwangs
Summary: Harriet Potter disappeared from this world in 1982. Years later, she returned for the Triwizard Tournament with eight other pirates - wait, pirates? The Wizarding World was in for a surprise. Fem!Harry as Nico Robin.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 123





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a story I posted on FF.net, a challenge from somebody. The prompt was, while I may have lost it, basically Nico Robin as Harry Potter. I love me some Robin, and I love me some Harry Potter, so here we are. Anyway, the original story was from like 2013 and I'm not proud of it, so I'm going to be uploading the refurbished version of it here. If you're curious about how the original went, you can check my ff.net account (under the same name) for more.

Oftentimes he’d come here when it rained, soaking underneath the drain pipes as water dripped down to his hair. He felt dramatic when he did so. As if he was in some kind of muggle movie. Even now, as Remus Lupin paced up and down the pavement outside Mungo’s, he felt increasingly thrilling. 

Perhaps that was the moon’s effect on him, or it was the fact that one of his best friends was in labour at that very moment. Yeah, it was probably the latter.

Remus couldn’t stand the inside of the hospital. The blinding light always gave him a splitting headache, screaming at him that he  _ was a monster, that he deserved to rot in Azkaban, that he -  _

“Merlin, it smells like wet dog out here. Though I suppose wolf would be more appropriate.”

Remus glanced over his shoulder, grinning genuinely for the first time in what felt like decades, and greeted his friend Sirius with a jab of his own. “You might want to get yourself checked out for fleas while you’re here, Padfoot.”

“I’ll have you know I maintain  _ pristine  _ hygiene,” said Sirius, pointing at himself with confidence. Remus cocked a brow, eyed Sirius’ darkened eyelids and greasy hair - he almost reminded him of Severus - and crossed his arms. Sirius pouted. “We both look awful, Moony.”

It was true - though this tended to be the norm for Remus, it had been a while since he’d seen Sirius look so… tired. Not since he’d moved out of that accursed Black house. 

“How are they?” Remus asked. “Is she okay? Is the baby okay?”

Sirius shrugged, joining him in the rain. “Still in labour, from what I heard. Couldn’t stand the screaming.” 

He ran a shaking hand through his hair, the other hand reaching for his pocket and pulling out a charmed muggle cigarette. He tapped the end with his wand and a small flame appeared on the end, unaffected by the water. One quick inhale and exhale later, and Remus forced back a cough. 

“James was the one screaming, ‘course.”

Remus snickered. Of course, his friend would do that. The small spark of humour did ease his worries, if only a little bit.

The pair stood out in the rain in silence, waiting, listening, for any kind of sign that their friends were okay. Not that they had any doubt they wouldn’t be - Lily was a fighter, and so was James. They wouldn’t let something like labour defeat them. Water dripped down their hair and clothes, soaking the fabric and dripping to their skin. It felt awkward rather than dramatic now, to Remus’ chagrin, and so when the blessed messenger arrived in the form of a wispy stag he welcomed it greatly.

“ _ Lily’s out of labour, we’re both good _ ,” James’ voice rang out of the patronous, sounding out of breath. “ _ It’s a - come and look _ .”

The pair glanced at each other before rushing back into St. Mungo’s, hearts pounding in their chests. They returned to the ward where Lily and James had been staying, walking a little too fast-paced for the healers’ liking. But they didn’t care - after all, they had a baby to see. Finally they came to just outside Lily’s room, and fought for the door together. It was only when James had opened the door that the pair collapsed on a heap in front of him, causing him to fall himself and his glasses to go askew.

Lily laughed from the bed. Remus stared at her for a moment, registering the bundle in her arms, before he stood up and dusted himself off. All the while, his eyes never left her. Her red hair was drenched with sweat, and her body was shaking - from the pain of birth, probably. How strong she was to withstand such torture.

“Bloody hell, Moony, Padfoot,” James groaned, rubbing the back of his head. “You could’ve given me a concussion.”

“You’re in a hospital, mate. You’d be fine,” Sirius said.

James fixed his glasses. “Still.”

Remus ignored both of them, fixated on the bundle. Lily noticed this, as she lifted it slightly and smiled, seemingly beckoning him to come closer. He approached her quietly, silently, while the other two Marauders watched. 

The baby was beautiful. That was the only word he could think to describe them. The beauty of life, right before him. They were gazing up at him with brilliant emerald eyes, just like their mother. He’d expected fear, or tears, or a fuss, from their first meeting, but instead all he found was curiosity. Barely registering movement behind him, he realised that Sirius had joined him.

“It’s a girl,” James said, sitting on the other side of the bed and stroking Lily’s hair. “A beautiful baby girl.”

Sirius sighed and handed Remus a sickle, who pocketed it, satisfied. 

“What did you name her?” Remus asked.

“Well, we thought we were going to have a boy, because  _ someone _ ,” James mocked-glared at Lily, “was convinced we were, and apparently we didn’t need to get its sex checked because she was sure since she’s the mother-”

“Oh, shut it.”

James grinned. “Originally, we were gonna go with Harry.”

“Oh thank Godric,” Sirius sighed with relief. “Thought you were gonna go with the Black naming system. After stars or some shit.”

“Or the Lupin naming system.” Remus added. “Wolf Wolf - brilliant name, if I say so myself.”

“Yeah, me and Lily are pretty much the only ones in this room with normal names.” A wink. “And Harriet, of course.”

“Harriet,” Remus breathed, staring down at her. The name rolled easily off his tongue, and it had a certain ring to it. Yes, it felt right. Harriet Potter.

The first child of the Marauders.

“You couldn’t go with Harry so you went with Harriet?” Sirius snorted. “Real original, mate.”

James said a retort in return, but Remus didn’t listen. No, he was too fixated on the baby to notice, gazing at her puffy cheeks and tiny hands with awe. She blinked a few times, staring right back at him. Then, amazingly, she grinned a toothless smile. Remus was stunned for a moment before smiling right back at her.

She was wonderful. He’d never felt so warm in his life, not since he’d first woken up in the Shrieking Shack with his friends by his side. Cautiously, he reached out with his hand, and stroked the young girl’s cheek.

Lily glanced up while Remus was preoccupied with Harriet. “Where’s Peter?”

“Said he couldn’t make it,” Sirius said. “Important Order business, apparently.”

“That’s a shame. Guess he’s out of the running.” James stretched his arms out, casually looking outside the window.

“Running for what?” Sirius asked.

“For the Godfather.”

Remus quickly whipped his hand away from Harriet, holding it close to his chest. There was no way, absolutely  _ no way _ , that they were even considering him - he was a monster, after all. He shouldn’t even be allowed near their baby now. What if he hurt Harriet? 

“Remus,” Lily sighed. “You’re good. You’re alright.”

He felt a comforting hand on his back, and he registered Sirius moving behind him. His skin, which had turned paler than usual, returned to normal. A bead of sweat dripped down the back of his neck, and it was suddenly harder to breath. After a few quick reminders from his friends to inhale, then exhale, he finally returned to a regular breathing pattern. 

“Sorry mate.” James scratched the back of his head. “Guess you don’t want to do it, then?”

Remus shook his head. “Sirius would make for a better Godparent than me.”

“Shucks, Moony,” Sirius feigned blushing, “when you put it like that.”

The room laughed - all except for Harriet, who stared at her mother, confused, but with a hint of curiosity in her eyes. It was the beginning of something new for the Marauders. 

Something wicked this way comes.

* * *

No one had warned the Potters about the dangers of parenting a magical child. Of course, they knew the trials and tribulations that came with one, thanks to the Weasley Family’s inputs during various Order meetings when Lily was pregnant, but Molly never truly warned them about the threat they faced. 

“She’s under the couch - Lily! Get the -  _ don’t eat that _ !”

Harriet giggled, holding a caterpillar in her hands, reaching it ever so slowly to her mouth. James looked on in horror, his arm outstretched, but alas he was too late. The poor insect had been consumed, lost forever. And the girl who ate it looked absolutely delighted at the prospect.

Lily rushed into the room, holding a bottle of milk in one hand and grasping a child’s broomstick in the other. “What did she eat?”

“Some bug, or something - quickly now, quickly!” James hurried her on. He laid down on his stomach and mock-glared at Harriet, who grinned back. The baby was currently hiding underneath the couch, where her parents couldn’t find her, and she could get up to as much mischief as she wanted. She somehow  _ knew  _ that they were having trouble with her, and she was relishing in as much of it as she could. James merely pouted at his daughter. “Can’t you give your papa a break?”

“Gah!”

A convincing argument.

Lily soon joined him on the floor, presenting Harriet with two gifts: the milk and the broom. She smiled, albeit with bags under her eyes, and cooed softly. “Come on, Harriet, you know you want them…”

“Come on out,” James joined in. 

Harriet frowned and titled her head. James would have squealed with adoration had the situation not been so dire - seriously, how does one so small make such a ruckus? He just wanted to take a nap. But alas, his little girl would not allow him even that.

Sighing, Lily hit her head against the floor. James knew why; this was pointless. No matter what they’d do, nothing would entice Harriet to come out from under the couch. She wouldn’t accept any of the bribes they tried to use.

Soon the carpet was covered in toys and various magical objects - all in attempts to rescue their baby girl from the evil clutches of whatever it was she was trying to do.

“This is useless, James,” Lily groaned.

“Don’t give up!” James said, holding his wife’s shoulders. “We will win!”

Harriet giggled. Oh. she absolutely knew what she was doing. Cheeky little devil.

Suddenly, she stopped. James’ heart skipped a beat - why did she stop? Was she in trouble? He laid down on the carpet again, worry etched on his face, as he stared at his daughter, trying to work out what she was thinking. Harriet was staring into one particular area of the carpet. He glanced back and frowned.

Then, to his amazement, she moved forward.

“Lily!”

“I know!”

The two parents stared wide-eyed as their daughter slowly but surely approached a muggle toy. It was strange - the toy wasn’t anything special. Just a pirate doll. But Harriet grasped its arm with her tiny hands and chortled happily.

James was stunned. “Pirates?”

“I guess she likes it?” Lily said, equally as confused. The pair glanced at each other before sighing in relief. At least their little girl was out for now.

Harriet giggled again, waving the doll up and down. Nothing about it was magical, but to her it meant the world.

* * *

Rats were often mistaken to be dastardly, cowardly,  _ rotten  _ creatures. They were thought to live in sewers and eat out trash. This was an absolute lie. Rats were majestic, wonderful beings that deserved all the love in the world. True, some of them did eat trash and true, they did get quite dirty sometimes - but that’s besides the point. Rats deserved better than how they were treated.

And that included him, Peter Pettigrew.

‘ _ Wormtail _ ’, as his friends called him, was a detestable name. It made him seem like a slimy git - and he wasn’t! He was a respectable member of the community, of the  _ Order _ , and he was even entrusted with the duty of being the Potters’ secret-keeper. This was a humongous task, one that he knew he had to uphold at all costs.

He was no coward.

That was why he stood outside the Malfoy Mansion, clutching his wand in his hand, and glowering at the gates. No coward would dare come this far.

He was no coward, he was just looking out for his own family. Prongs would understand. After all, it was his family at stake here. His own family - the Pettigrews weren’t the most famous of purebloods, but they were still a vital member of society. Now that he had seen what happened to the Potters, it was only a matter of time before the same happened to his own. And he would never allow that to happen, never.

(It was all just excuses, in the end.)

Finally, after what seemed like hours, a tall man in a flowing dark robe approached the gate from the mansion. Peter could just  _ feel  _ them sneering at him from behind their mask. A long silence fell over the both of them. The bars of the gate separated both of them, but yet only he felt as if he were trapped. Peter shifted in his shoes, coughing.

It wasn’t too late to run away, was it?

“State your business, Blood Traitor.”

Peter gulped. “I-I’m here to see You-Know-Who!”

“And for what reason,” the Death Eater began to say, twirling his wand in his hand, “would the Dark Lord be interested in seeing  _ you _ ?” He suddenly stopped, clutching the wand in his hand threateningly. 

Eyeing the weapon, Peter raised his own arms in surrender. “I’ve come bearing - bearing information.” 

The Death Eater tilted his head.

“About the Potters.”

Yes. Prongs would understand.

* * *

He wasn’t given a trial.

Sirius laid down in his cell, staring up at the rotten ceiling while the Dementors hovered past him, and listened to the hysteric screams of the other prisoners. 

James and Lily Potter were dead. Prongs and Lils - his two best friends in the world, gone.

If he listened closely enough, he could hear the cries of some of his family members. Bellatrix made herself the loudest, of course - he wish she’d just shut up already. There was a reason he left the Black family, and if he had to listen to one more damned cackle he was going to maul her himself.

Wormta- no, Peter Pettigrew, was a traitor. A filthy, fucking traitor. James and Lily probably died thinking he was tortured to death for information, when the exact opposite was true. He sold them out, and for what? Safety? 

Sirius snorted. Pettigrew was going to need it when he got his hands on him. There was no protection for traitors.

The prisoner in the cell opposite to him looked at him in fear. He recognised them - a young boy with freckles and straw-coloured hair. One of those stuck-up Ministry worker’s sons.

Sirius wiggled his brows. “Boo.”

He whimpered and hide his head in his knees.

What a disappointing cellmate. 

Sighing, Sirius stretched his arms behind him and rested the back of his head on his hands. It was going to be a long wait.

But there was something else filling him with worry.

Harriet.

The thought that the child, that his  _ God-daughter _ , was out there all alone filled him with an uneasy sense of dread. Of course, he doubted that the Dementors were helping that in any way, but still - she was alone, and she needed him. And he would give anything to be with her, but he knew it was himself against the world here. Not even Moony would be on his side.

He cussed aloud. Was that what he had become? A demon? A monster?

No, he couldn’t allow Harriet to grow up on the run like that. He was sure that whatever Dumbledore had planned for her was the safest option.

So, instead, he waited. For what, he did not know - the passing of time, maybe. But he would wait until the end to meet Harriet again. He would wait beyond the end to meet James and Lily.

He just hoped that Moony would see his side.


	2. Chapter 2

Britain was changing, that much was certain.

There was a sense of unease in the air before when the Dursleys would go about their day. For some reason unbeknownst to them, random strangers on the street would be in deep gloom, as if there was  _ something  _ bothering them. Vernon Dursley had turned up his chubby chin at them when he passed them by in his car, muttering something about the homeless.

Petunia furrowed her brows. She’d seen enough of those people to know that they weren’t homeless. They were just - she shuddered. 

_ Monsters. _

She hadn’t seen her si-  _ that freak  _ for years now, not since she warned her family about some ‘Dark Lord’. Honestly, it sounded like something right out of a children’s book. An evil, Dark Lord, bent on destroying Britain as they knew it? How silly.

But yet, she knew it was the truth.

That was the last time she saw her sister. Apparently she went off and got married to some other freak and had a monstrous baby together. The thought of them  _ reproducing  _ made her wretch in her mouth. Such vermin should never be allowed to populate an area. Whatever the child was, they were obviously not as cute and adoring as her own little Dudley.

As the family drove along, they spotted the same ‘homeless’ people that Vernon would have pointed out before, this time cheering and acting so jollyful. It was sickening to her. Just what were they so happy about?

Britain was changing. __

And so was Petunia’s life. 

It was her who discovered the baby that morning, her who screamed so loud it woke the neighbours up. It was her that read the note left behind by Albus Dumbledore, her that read about her sister’s death at the hands of Vol - some dark and twisted man. As she read through the letter, hands deathly pale and shaking intensely, her husband asking her what was wrong somewhere behind her, she glanced between the cursive writing and the baby in horror.

There was no way. This had to be some kind of twisted joke. Petunia crouched down, slowly reaching for the child. Harriet, the letter had said. She was looking at Petunia with bright emerald-green eyes - they almost looked.,. Sad. As if she knew what had happened to her parents. Strangest of all was the lightning-bolt scar on her forehead.

Petunia gasped and fell back.

“Petunia? What’s wrong? What - what the RUDDY HELL IS THAT?”

At Vernon’s voice, the baby broke into tears. Petunia quickly stood up, clutching her husband’s arm tightly, as her eyes darted from the baby to him. She spluttered and stuttered over her words as she tried to explain the situation, with unfortunate results.

“ _ Why  _ is there a  _ baby  _ on our doorstep?”

She opened her mouth and closed it, much like a fish, before staring down at the casket and muttering to herself.

“Huh? Well?”

“We have to take it inside…” she said. Vernon furrowed his brows at her when she picked up the casket, baby and all inside, and brought it inside. She took no notice of him, opting to instead focus on the baby at hand. 

Once the baby was on the table, and the neighbours were shooed away from their house (“Just saw a spider, dear. Everything’s fine now.”), Petunia finally regained her composure.

“Whose baby is it?” Vernon asked bluntly.

“My - my sister’s,” she answered. “She’s… well…”

She gestured towards the letter in the casket. Vernon read through it quickly, his brows raising and then narrowing further and further down as he did so. Finally, once he had finished, he tossed it aside, slouching down on a chair.

His face had gone very, very red in that moment. “Do you think it’s like… like them?” They both shuddered at the thought.

“Heavens, I hope not.” She glanced at the child - still in tears. “It’s not going to hurt Dudley, is it?”

“Send it to an orphanage,” Vernon suggested. “Better yet, leave it at some boarding school. They can deal with it-”

She shook her head. “Albus Dumbledore said it has to stay with us.”

“And you’re just going to listen to one of those - one of those mutants!”

Bringing the tip of her thumb to her lips, she nodded slowly. Vernon didn’t understand - he never met Albus Dumbledore personally. The sheer terrifying power he held, despite looking so  _ ancient _ , horrified her to no end. The last thing she wanted to do was find herself at the end of his wrath.

“We’ll keep it - Harriet - until she’s of age. Then she’s out of this house,” Petunia said. She didn’t spare another glance to the wailing baby before she left for upstairs to check on her own child, leaving Vernon to soothe Harriet.

Little Dudley was confused as to why his mother’s face felt so wet.

* * *

One year. That was all it took for everything to go wrong.

She had been standing in the kitchen, washing the dishes while Dudley and Harriet were out playing in the living room. It was a bright, sunny afternoon - her dear Vernon was out doing work for his firm and she had just finished a  _ very  _ successful lunch with one of the other neighbourhood mothers. Carol had since left, and Petunia had left her child and her sister’s child to their own devices for just a moment.. Everything was going completely fine until she heard a high-pitched squeal coming from the living room.

At first she ignored it, assuming Dudley had found some new toy and was playing with it. But then it came again - the squeal. Petunia left the dishes in the sink and huffed. If her darling Dudley had been hurt - the thought left her with a shudder. Of course, it would all be that spawn’s fault. No matter how much that Dumbledore would  _ ever so kindly  _ threaten her with his weird tricks, if Dudley was hurt somehow by Harriet then she was going straight to the adoption clinic.

“Duddykins?” she called out, walking into the living room. “What’s going on?”

Another squeal. “Ha go!” 

Dudley was sitting on the floor by himself, thankfully uninjured by the looks of it. He was pointing at the air, babbling on about whatever it was babies thought about. Petunia’s gaze followed her son’s finger, founding it to point at…

...Absolutely nothing.

“Harry go!”

Confused, she picked up Dudley, rocking him slightly in her arms. That seemed to have brought his attention to her.

“Ma! Harry go!” he babbled.

She frowned. “What do you mean, sweetie pie?”

There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the image at hand. Dudley was completely fine, the toys were scattered across the floor, nothing was missing, Harriet was - 

Her skin turned ashen.

Where was Harriet?

Carrying Dudley in her arms, she began to search the house, heart racing with every passing minute. The spawn was  _ nowhere  _ to be found, not even upstairs past the baby gate. Dudley suddenly found her necklace to be edible, but she took no notice. All that was passing through her mind was  _ the fact that a baby had just disappeared _ . The baby  _ she  _ was supposed to be looking after.

She gave up on the search after an hour in, setting herself and Dudley down on the couch and biting her nails. It was useless; Harriet was nowhere to be found, and pretty soon Vernon would arrive home and she would have to explain how she lost an entire baby.

Sure enough, as she sat and contemplated what she would do, the door opened, and her husband stepped into the house. Vernon sighed and dropped his bag by the door, announcing his presence home. She didn’t respond.

“Petunia?”

“Mm?” she said, staring into the distance. Maybe she could run away. Her, Vernon and Dudley - Dumbledore couldn’t possibly find them where-ever they were.

“Are you okay? You’re looking a little pale there.”

That was when she finally broke down.

“They - they’re going to come after us! They’re going to find us and they’ll - they’ll - oh, what if they take Duddykins away?” she wailed. 

Vernon widened his eyes in panic and rushed over to join his wife on the couch. “What are you talking about? Who’s coming after us?”

“D-D-Dumbledore!”

He frowned. “That old bloke? Why would he come after us?” 

Petunia pointed a shaking finger at the air. “Harriet! Harriet’s disappeared!”

With his mouth open in a small ‘o’, he slouched down on the couch, staring off into space. Dudley looked at both of his parents, confused, as they contemplated what to do next. Though he was just a child, he could still sense that  _ something  _ was off.

“It’s probably some - some kind of ma - ma-” she couldn’t get the word out.

Vernon nodded. “I knew that girl was trouble.”

If they ran away, Dumbledore would surely find them in no time. If they lied, they would be found out eventually. Petunia knew. She only had one option left.

“I’m sending a letter to him.”

* * *

Nothing excited Olvia more than the prospect of learning.

It was natural, after all, for her - as an archeologist of Ohara, she yearned to learn more about cultures, about history (forbidden or not). She was part of the pride and soul of the scientific world, and she relished every moment she spent in the great Tree of Knowledge. Even as a young teen, when she was studying to become an archeologist for the first time, she absolutely adored every moment of her studies. 

During her time studying there she met someone who would eventually become her husband; Nico Jay. Although some of the others on the island doubted they would have stuck together, considering that teen romances don’t often last long, they were happily married.

Until, that is, he went on an expedition and never returned home.

A month had passed since she received the news her husband was killed. The report had stated he was shot by pirates, but she knew better. It was the Government.

The Government killed her husband and she had nothing left of him. 

Olvia sat in the Tree of Knowledge, hastily scribbling down notes from a heavy text-book. Anything to keep her thoughts away from the deceased - ironically, by studying the dead. A skeleton arm was laid out before her, one from the Long-Armed Tribe. It was fascinating, really, to read about the medical practices they would go through to treat broken or infected arms. Judging by the scars on the skeleton’s bone, this one had been in a fierce battle with some kind of clawed creature. A lion, perhaps.

“It’s nearly midnight, my dear.”

She jolted up, surprised by the sudden voice. Professor Clover stood behind her, arms behind his back, his eyes scanning her notes. He smiled.

“I see you’ve been hard at work,” Clover said. “Don’t overdo it, Olvia.”

Olvia knew. She knew she was overdoing it - overstudying, undersleeping, undereating - she was a wreck. But could he blame her? After all, the one she loved above all else was  _ dead _ , and the ones responsible were going to get away with it. The World didn’t know the righteous fury of a woman scorned.

“I know,” she sighed.

He studied her, his brows furrowed in sympathy. “Go home and get some rest. And get some food in your belly while you’re at it!” 

She glanced at her work.

“You can finish it tomorrow,” Clover said. “It’ll still be here.”

“I suppose… thank you, Professor.” She smiled warmly at the professor, quickly taking hold of her satchel. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Nodding, Clover returned to his own work while Olvia walked out of the library. It was a cool, windless night, the stars glittering in the sky like a million tiny dancers. She wondered if Jay was watching her from the heavens (no matter what the Government may say,  _ he  _ would never go to hell). The thought made her quite melancholic, so she shook it off. Besides, it was such a nice night. She might as well go for a walk and ease her head.

The forests of Ohara weren’t as thick as some of the other islands in the West Blue. In fact, Ohara was considered to be one of the safest islands in the West, due to its lack of savage creatures, no pirates, and low cases of missing persons. It was truly a paradise for scholars and residents alike.

Musing on her own island, Olvia didn’t notice a bundle on the forest floor, especially not at night. She tripped and stumbled to the ground, grazing her knees. Swearing, she glanced back behind her to glare at whatever it was that interrupted her path.

A baby was crying.

Olvia’s jaw dropped as her eyes adjusted to the dark. A baby was wailing in the dead of the night, all alone and afraid. With a shaking hand, she reached out and felt for the baby’s own hand. It was small. Tiny. The baby couldn’t be any older than two. 

Feeling her own eyes water up, Olvia crawled closer to the child, cooing softly. She couldn’t get a good look at their features in the night, but she could at least calm them down. After a few moments of gentle humming from her end, and sniffles from the baby’s end, they finally stopped bawling, and Olvia was able to pick them up.

The baby paused, and stared at her with wide eyes. Olvia smiled down at them.

“Hey there,” she whispered. “Where’s your mummy?” 

“Mummy?”

Her heart broke in two. 

No matter how late it was, Clover always stayed at the library. She wasn’t about to bring the child to her brother, not this late, and Clover had some experience with toddlers. She hoped. Rushing to the Tree of Knowledge, though still at a pace slow enough as to not frighten the child, she returned to the library quickly.

“Olvia? What’s the matter?”

The child chortled. “Greem!” they exclaimed, pointing at Clover - who was staring at the pair of them with wide eyes.

Now that Olvia was inside and in better light, she could finally have a good look at the baby. Wild jet-black hair topped their head, their fringe hanging just above emerald-green eyes. Their nose was small and their cheeks were puffy - it took Olvia a moment to realise that she was holding a girl.

Strangest of all was the lightning bolt shaped scar on her forehead. There was something ominous about it. Something dangerous.

“Who’s is that?” Clover asked, voice shaking.

“I… I don’t know. She was abandoned.” She frowned, remembering the disgust that had been in her head when she realised a child had been left by themselves. Nothing could excuse such vile treatment of a  _ baby _ . “I don’t think she knows her own mother.”

The girl was finding Olvia’s locks of white hair to be very interesting in that moment.

“Clover, I - I want to adopt her!” 

Clover pushed up his spectacles. “This is a heavy task you’re taking on, Olvia. Are you sure you can-”

“Of course I’m sure!” she snapped. The baby let go of her hair, startled. “I just lost my chance to start a family, and then this opportunity comes? I can’t just let go of it!”

Silence washed over all of them. Even the young child seemed to realise something serious was happening. The professor gazed between the both of them, thoughts running through his head. 

“I suppose - we’re all busy at the library. You’d be the best person for the job.”

Her face lit up.

“But first - what’s her name?”

Olvia stared down at her little girl with a smile. Funnily, she’d already thought of one. One she was going to use for a child she would have had with Jay, but never did. A name that reminded her of freedom, of someone who would defy the Government and fly on their own.

“Robin. Nico Robin.”

And thus, Harriet Potter ceased to exist.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaa hey there!! Let me know what y'all think :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay for the longest chapter of this fic so far!!! originally it was going to be a LOT longer, but eeeeh I wanted to upload it so I could focus on school work.

Albus Dumbledore was like a force of nature when angered, Cornelius Fudge quickly realised. There was a moment when chills ran up his spine, when the calm before the storm arrived. That was Dumbledore - calm. Calm, yet furious. 

All of the Wizengamot felt the same way, he was certain. Not one person in the court looked as though they wanted to be there, but they must. For something had happened that rippled its way across the entire Wizarding World.

The Girl Who Lived has vanished into thin air.

It came as a surprise to learn that the infamous child had been living with Muggle relatives, and it came as a shock to learn said relatives  _ detested  _ magic, to the point where one of them had roared in fury when Fudge had arrived by Floo Powder to their residence. He’d never understand Muggles. Still, they  _ did  _ do a thorough investigation on the house, which showed up with absolutely nothing in general. Fudge’s suggestions that Harriet Potter had been abandoned by her relatives were dismissed by Dumbledore.

Which left it as an absolute mystery as to what had happened.

There were absolutely no traces of magic in that house, even Harriet Potter’s own trace was gone. Not even in the surrounding suburb was their magic, except for the Squib’s house. Fudge ran a hand through his thin hair. The ensuing headache was indeed a pain.

“Order, order!” he heard someone next to him say. The chatter in the room soon died down, leaving silence behind. “The Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge.”

Oh. They were expecting him to say something. Fudge cringed, glancing at the dozens of faces now staring at him.

“This is an… unprecedented turn of events,” he began. “We are in the middle of one of the strangest crisis the Ministry has ever had to face.”

SIlence.

“Clearly - this is the work of some dark magic. Perhaps one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s followers still runs amok-”

“So you admit that you have not round up all of Lord Voldemort’s followers?” Dumbledore snapped.

The courtroom winced at his use of the Dark Lord’s name, including Fudge. 

“It is very likely that-”

“Cornelius.” 

He gulped. Being on the receiving end of Dumbledore’s glare was most unpleasant. 

Dumbledore sighed. “We are no closer to finding out the true extent of Harriet Potter’s disappearance. I doubt Lord Voldemort’s closest followers, or even he himself, have any idea what is happening.”

The way that he spoke of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as if he  _ wasn’t  _ dead unnerved Fudge to no end. 

“The best decision right now would be to investigate the matter with an elite private team. It is to my belief that the Department of Ministries would be best equipped with this matter.”

Members of the committee were nodding, and Fudge found himself to be amongst them. He found it was usually better to agree with Albus than to disagree.

“All in favour of selecting an elite task force to investigate Harriet Potter’s disappearance, say I,” the woman next to him said. The room echoed in a chorus of “I”s.

Dumbledore looked very, very tired.

* * *

If there was something Olvia would never have been prepared for, it was motherhood.

Something else she hadn’t been prepared for was how utterly  _ strange and wonderful  _ her child was. Robin was an enigma to her; the mysteries of her past remained, well, a mystery, and the strange scar on her forehead just spoke more to her past. Why was it there, why was she on Ohara where no one else knew about her - these were the questions that plagued Olvia everyday.

Moreso, why was it that Robin had - and she had no other way of describing it - magic? It certainly wasn’t a Devil Fruit - unless the records were wrong, and this was some kind of undiscovered Devil Fruit. Just what kind of Devil Fruit would include levitation, elemental manipulation, and whatever else strange powers she had up her sleeve.

Olvia stood flabbergasted in her kitchen, gazing wide-eyed at the ceiling as her  _ baby  _ hovering over her, giggling. She absolutely knew that she was being mischievous, yet she had not a care in the world. All the while Olvia was trying  _ desperately  _ to get her down.

“Please? For me?”

“No!” Robin stuck out her tongue.

Olvia sighed. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

  
  


“You had a child?” her brother asked through the transponder snail, the cries of his own toddler in the background of the call. “But - didn’t Jay - sorry, I just thought-”

Olvia laughed, holding Robin in one arm. “No, no, it’s alright. I found her, that’s all.”

“Found her?” She could just  _ see  _ him sighing. “Olvia, you didn’t kidnap her did you?”

“Brother, you’re far too suspecting of me. I would  _ never  _ be a criminal.”

“Tell that to my lost frog.”

“That wasn’t me, I told you that,” said Olvia. “I just found her abandoned. I couldn’t leave her alone like that.”

Robin reached for the snail, looking very interested in the device.

“Her name’s Robin. Would you like to speak with her?”

“I would like that very much,” her brother answered. 

Grinning, Olvia handed the receiver to Robin, who grabbed it with her tiny hands. There was a moment of silence as she stared at the snail in awe, before a small cough came from the device. Robin frowned at the receiver.

“Hello? Is this Robin?” came her brother’s voice.

Robin tilted her head. “Padfoo?” 

“No, it’s Oran,” he said. “Hey little one. I’m your uncle.”

“Uncle!” she seemed to shiver. Olvia frowned. 

“You sound like a strong little girl. Maybe you could play with your cousin someday?” Oran suggested.

“Duddy mean,” said Robin. “Don’t wanna.”

Olvia sighed and took the receiver from her daughter. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. I hope to meet her someday soon.”

After say their goodbyes, the two hung up on each other. Olvia turned to Robin, furrowing her brows in worry. Robin merely looked up at her, sucking on her fingers.

“What am I going to do with you?” 

* * *

  
  


A little after Robin’s third birthday, she said something that filled Olvia with absolute joy.

They were in the library, Robin playing with a toy puzzle as Olvia filled out notes on the East Blue’s tribes, when she said it. The one little word that made Olvia’s whole entire life worth living.

“Mummy,” said Robin.

Olvia had dropped her pen, heart racing in shock. “R-Robin!”

“Wanna play.”

She  _ should  _ have said no - after all, this paper was expected to be delivered to Clover that very night, and she still had about ten pages worth to fill out. But here her own daughter was,  _ acknowledging  _ her to be her mother, being so absolutely adorable that Olvia just couldn’t say no.

“Of course, sweetie,” Olvia smiled down at her, crouching down to her eye-level. “What would you like to play?”

“Arkie-ology!” Robin said, holding her hands up high as she did so. “Find bone in sand!”

It was a game they played often outside; Olvia would hide a bone in the dirt or sand and Robin would be tasked to find it with a toy shovel and brush. Originally Olvia began it so her daughter might take an interest in her field of study, and thankfully it went wonderfully. Nothing brought her more joy than Robin’s excited noises when she finally found the bones.

The bones were fake, of course. 

(Most of the time).

“That sounds lovely,” said Olvia. She stood up, adjusting her hat, and held out her hand for Robin to hold. “Let’s go see the Professor and see if he can lend us some.”

Robin took the hand, grinning. “Okay!”

Luckily the Professor had bones in abundance. With a small bag of plastic bones in Olvia’s other hand, and a shove and brush in Robin’s other hand, the pair walked to the beach shore, chattering as if Olvia could understand a word of what Robin was saying. She could make out a lot more than others could, to be fair. Call it mother’s intuition. 

Finally they arrived at the beach, and Robin pressed her face against a tree, turning her back on Olvia. Even without being told, she knew what to do. Olvia felt her heart swell with pride at how intelligent her little girl was. Once the bones were carefully set down in the sand Olvia stepped back and called Robin’s name.

Robin rushed over to the beach, clutching the shovel in her tiny hand, a look of adorable determination upon her face. As she begun desperately digging into the sand, Olvia couldn’t help but laugh at how cute she was. More than that - she was the spitting image of her mother. 

Except she wasn’t her mother, not really.

She didn’t even know what Robin’s real mother  _ looked  _ like.

Part of her felt guilty for calling Robin her own daughter, but another, bitter part of her reminded her that it was very likely that Robin was abandoned by her parents. It was a raging battle inside of her, the doubt that spun around and swirled like a fiery tornado. Olvia knew the day would come where she would have to tell Robin the truth, and she didn’t know how her little girl would take it. Would she be sad? Betrayed? Would Robin still love her?

She was too wrapped in her own thoughts to realise that Robin had frozen in place. It was only when Robin fell over, clutching her forehead and crying aloud that Olvia finally snapped out of her trance and raced to her daughter’s side.

“Robin!” she cried out, holding Robin in place as she had begun convulsing. “Robin, calm down!”

After a moment Robin’s shaking turning to shivers, before turning back to shakes again. Olvia realised with a heavy heart that there were tears streaming down her face.

“G-green,” Robin choked. “Green light.”

Olvia had no idea what Robin was talking about. All she could do was comfort her little girl as she laid sobbing in the sand.

* * *

Olvia had left a month after that, in order to search for the Poneglyphs. It was only supposed to be a two-month trip, yet here Robin was, at the tender age of six, still waiting for her mother to return home. She spent most of her time in the Tree of Knowledge, away from her aunt and with the other scholars there. They were the closest thing to friends she had on the island, not that the other kids would ever play with her. After all, she had eaten one of the accursed Devil Fruits. She was a freak, a monster.

Not to mention all the other strange things that seemed to happen around her. Such as the time some kids tried to throw rocks at her - they stopped just short of her before turning around and whizzing straight back at the thrower. Or the time Aunt Roji tried to give her a haircut to rid her of those “awful bangs”, which revealed Robin’s scar, but come next morning her hair was back to normal.

Worse of all was the nightmares. A flash of green light, and high cold laughter. Every single night.

Robin pouted. At this point it was getting rather old.

Sighing, she placed her book down, instead opting to gaze at the other archeologists in the room. They all seemed to be hard at work at whatever studies they were up to. Professor Clover was nowhere to be seen.

“Ah, Robin!”

Robin jumped in shock and turned around. “Professor Clover!”

The old professor was standing behind her, his kind eyes looking rather weary behind his spectacles. He adjusted them for a brief moment, coughing. “If you may - please come with me,” he said. Robin thought he looked rather uncomfortable, but nonetheless followed him into a back room. “Now this may come as a shock…”

“What’s wrong?” Robin asked. A million thoughts ran through her head, each one worse than the last. “I’m not getting banned from the library, am I?” 

“Good heavens, of course not!” Clover exclaimed. “It’s just - ahem - how should I put this… Robin, you’re… adopted.”

She tilted her head. 

“Olvia found you abandoned as a child,” he explained. “You were only… two at the time, we estimated.”

“...Oh.”

To be honest, she didn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, she didn’t care, really - Olvia was her mother, as far as Robin was concerned, and nothing would change that. On the other hand, it just added more mystery to her. Who were her genetic parents, then? What were they like?

“...Is that all?” Robin said. 

“Yes, that’s all.”

She smiled. “That’s fine, then! Olvia’s the one who raised me, and that’s all that matters!”

Clover blinked, before his face rested on a warm gaze. “You are wise beyond your years, Robin.”

She blushed at the compliment.

“Now, would you like to come help me study the possibilities of a Sky Island?”

Her face lit up. “Of course I would!”

How she wished that moment could last forever.

* * *

It was far too cold. For an island that was burning to the ground, for the thousands of lives that were lost that day, for the smoke, ash and embers that littered the skies, it was far too cold. As far as the eye could see was a black cloud - almost as if the heavens itself were burning, and the bright orange flames that hungrily ate up the Tree of Knowledge, the whining of the tree echoing throughout the dense smoke. All that could be heard were the roars of nature, the booming cannons , and the screams of the innocents. The stench of charring flesh was enough to make anyone gag, even the most resilient of marines. Distant canonfire shook the ground, the earth's agonizing rumble echoing throughout the breathless air.

Yet as the island laid dying into the gentle eve, one breath of life still remained - the last remnant of a soon-to-be-forgotten country. A moment, still and silenced for nearly a second, the flames rising in volume as the realization hit and consumed the once flourishing island; it was the end for it. A cough, a stagger, and a fall. There was a pause, for a moment, as if waiting for the fire to consume and bring an end to the island, before her mother’s final words got the better of her, and Nico Robin continued to run.

The image of Saul was frozen in her mind’s eye as she sprinted, along with her mother lit up in flames - though she never actually saw her mother dying, her vivid imagination was enough to make herself gag with the thought. It didn’t help that the air reeked with scorching bodies that only aided her line of thinking. If she wasn’t thinking of her mother, she was thinking about Saul; that gentle giant, the only being she had ever had the pleasure of calling her friend, suddenly coated in numbing ice, courtesy of the Vice Admiral. The logical side of her mind told her the science of what was likely to happen - nothing frozen could be thawed out properly in that flaming island. He was likely to crack and shatter into a million pieces. The foolish little girl in her so desperately wished that he would come running behind her, laughing, broken free from Kuzan’s hold.

Foolish little girl.

As she hurried across the island, her tiny feet scuffling along the dirt, worry set upon her at the realisation that she truly had no escape from Ohara. Her original destination, Saul’s raft, had been decimated by the marines, so now she might as well be wandering aimlessly around its rim. The thought occurred to her that she may be able to stowaway on one of the marine ships, but she quickly shook that off - that was a last resort, if anything.

The ash was beginning to be too much for her lungs, that much she knew. For her, the more she ran, the more the world around her spun, as if any moment she could collapse and it would all be over. She had been used to running away (the other children in the village had paid no small part in that, but never had she had to run for her life before) yet even as much as her legs ached and her chest burnt like the sun, she did not stop.

Everything was too much. Robin wondered if she would even survive reaching her destination. This familiar path that she had walked through the past eight years of her life - suddenly, it was enemy territory. Finally, she staggered to the shore, branches from trees whipping at her face and cutting into her skin. For a brief moment, she felt a sense of relief. Then her stomach dropped at the sick realisation that someone else was there; and not just anyone.

Kuzan. Sitting calmly by the beach, a small rowboat drifting in the water. 

If she had less willpower, she would have thrown up right then and there. It was overwhelming her; the flames, the ash, the screaming, and now this. Her head was spinning already from the heat, yet all she could do was glare at the man sitting before her. What else could she do? She was completely powerless against him, even with her Devil Fruit.

For a brief moment, she considered her odds against him, though the thought quickly dissipated. She recalled reading about the human body in a book once; where the fatal bones to break were located. There was a moment when she considered putting her knowledge to use. 

Honestly, she was scared of her own thoughts.

“Absolute Justice…” Kuzan said with a reserved tone. In the distance, they both heard cannonfire. “It’s enough to drive any man mad.”

_ Justice? _ A bitter laugh crawled its way up her throat, one that she forcefully swallowed back down. The mere fact that he was talking of justice of all things, of all times, sickened her to no end. Initially she never had much opinion on marines. Just now she decided that she disliked them very,  _ very _ much.

Just what part of any of this was ‘justice’?

He continued, either completely oblivious to her anger or choosing to ignore it. “I’ve chosen to let you go from this island. This seed that Saul protected… I wonder what it will grow into.”

How  _ dare  _ he talk of Saul, as he had not just  _ murdered  _ him in cold blood. Her rage flared up inside her like a fiery tornado. 

“It’s your choice to hate whoever you want, but you should consider yourself lucky to still have your life. Try to live as plainly as you can...”

She wanted to scream at him, to know what sick, twisted part of him considered any of this lucky. Her life was ruined, she practically had none left - and here he was, a self-made hypocrite, telling her to live a normal life. Robin would never be able to rest easily. She knew that, and she was certain that he knew that too.

“I’ve left a line of ice on the sea,” Kuzan explained, voice withdrawn. “Travel straight ahead with this dingy, and you’ll reach land. And know this: I am not your ally.” He stood up, standing well above Robin. Not for the first time that day did Robin feel a chill run down her spine at the power of a Vice Admiral, and the warning he left her did nothing to ease her worries. “If you attempt anything, I’ll be the first to come after you.”

Attempt anything? Robin could only stare blankly at him. The anger from earlier was gone, replaced with a cold possibility running through her mind - what if. She didn’t plan to do  _ anything _ , yet his words sparked something within her. An idea, a sick, twisted idea, that made her skin crawl.

But some part of her still foolishly clinging to hope turned to him, ugly tears dripping down her face. Her voice cracked from smoke or crying, she did not know. “My mum is on the island!”

“No one will be saved.” He continued to walk. “If it’s so painful that you want to die, go ahead and stay here.”

Her heart broke into a million pieces. Just one glimmer of home, gone in an instant. He didn’t even  _ try  _ \- his idea of justice was still in place. He saw this as justice, didn’t he. 

“Damn you… damn you… damn you…”

Kuzan ignored her.

“YOU PEOPLE ARE MONSTERS!” she screamed, her throat hoarse from the smoke. A little girl’s rasping voice was not nearly as intimidating as she would have liked. He paused, for a moment, as if he were about to say something - but nothing happened. No words, no indication he had even heard her.

Flames cackled at her, the booming cannonfire deafening her ears. There was no room for sympathy in this man’s heart, that much she was aware of. Wiping her tears, Robin stood defiantly. She would  _ not  _ allow him to see her so weak. Not in this state, not in this time - not ever. If she were to ever meet him again, he would have hell to pay.

He continued walking, his footsteps echoing despite the loud ruckus unfolding around them. Robin wondered if she could just break his neck - 

_ Logia _ , she thought numbly.  _ He’d have a natural defence mechanism against that. _

Shaking the thought out of her head and whipping around quickly, she stepped onto the boat, resisting every urge she had to turn around and yell at Kuzan some more. Even so, she was sure he got the message - she  _ despised  _ him, the marines, the government, and every corrupt sociopath that had a hand in the destruction of Ohara. Even now, she could still see the flames from the Tree of Knowledge, flaring high up into the sky. 

Funny, she had always wanted to go out to sea. Ever since her own mother had left her, she wondered just what was out there that enticed Nico Olvia so much - the answer, she soon realised for herself, was poneglyphs - and she had sought to achieve the same. Now that she had the chance to, she felt nothing of the joy she believed she would before. All that was left was agonizing sorrow. 

She climbed into the boat, pushing it out to sea using her Devil Fruit’s multiple limbs. The boat creaked and groaned as she did so, swaying ever-so-gently against the wave of the ocean - much too calmly for the destruction that unfolded around her. It was a sick sort of irony.

As the boat drifted out to sea, her extra hands rowing the paddles every so often, the tears did not stop. It was only when she took a breath in and forced herself, through great pressure, did they pause, and she was allowed time to think again.

And what a mistake that was.

Her thoughts were plagued by memories, memories of happier days that were now long gone, of days spent reading in the library, sharing those precious times with the other scholars. She always took those days for granted, she soon realised, as it was those simpler, quieter times she would never get back. Those days when they’d celebrate her birthday, or - just a few days ago, when they’d congratulated her on passing her exam.

Her mother returning to the island, the fated reunion between mother and daughter.

_ You must live, Robin! _

Live… Robin mulled over her mother’s words. She didn’t understand, still, what Nico Olvia was trying to say. It was all too confusing, a jumbled mess in her brain. Saul’s own voice came to her mind.

“Dereshi…” she whispered, too soft to be heard over the distant cannonfire. “Dereshishi…”

Laughing was proving to be difficult, and it wasn’t just because of the smoke - though that did cause its own array of issues. Coughing through the ash, Robin couldn’t help but reflect on the days past, on the nightmare of the Buster Call.

One thing remained perfectly clear throughout the smog.

Ohara was as good as dead.

* * *

She woke up in a cold sweat - ironic, considering where she had just been. Perspiration dripped down her forehead and she tried to gather her surroundings. Ash and soot covered her from head to toe, and bruises and scars littered her tiny frame. Some more scars to add to the strange lightning-bolt one on her forehead. Robin rubbed her eyes.

Where ever she was, it certainly wasn't Ohara. No - Ohara was dead now. It was gone, burnt up in flames, it no longer existed, her home was decimated, it - 

Robin threw up on the sand.

Wiping her mouth, she squinted around at her surroundings. She had passed out on the small dingy, which had ended up washed ashore another island just like the vice admiral - Kuzan - had said. It looked like it was an inhabited island, judging by the smoke in the distance, over some thick trees.. But it was still too close to Ohara. They might find her again and - she shivered at the thought of what they would do to her. The Government had certainly proved on Ohara what they were willing to do in the name of 'justice'. One little girl getting away from their grasp wouldn't satisfy them.

She stood up and glanced at the horizon. Nothing but ocean lasted for miles. Even the ice had melted already, and was washed away by the ocean waves. She shivered, thinking of the vice admiral's awesome power. Kuzan's words repeated in her head.

_ "If you attempt anything, I'll be the first to come after you." _

Just what was she, one mere little girl, supposed to do?

The thought was frustrating. Even the mere memory of those words - she scowled. It was silly to assume that she'd do anything against the might of the Government. What could she even do? She'd be shot down before she even thought of a plan.

Robin picked up a pebble and threw it to the ocean. She imagined it was Kuzan. Serves him right. The pebble skipped a few ripples before plunging into the depths of the ocean.

It certainly wasn't healthy to dwell on the words of her now-enemy. No, she had to think of them. Mother and Saul, Professor Clover and the other scholars. Their words etched into her very soul, their last words. They left her with a legacy she would burden alone for the rest of her life.

_ "You must live, Robin!" _

A single tear dripped down her cheek, washing away the ash. She drew in a sharp breath and rubbed her eyes. No, she would not cry - she refused to cry. Not anymore. There was no more time for tears. Taking a deep breath in, her expression suddenly turned blank.

Don't think. Don't feel. Just keep moving forward.

She took the first step.

It suddenly dawned upon her that she was alone.

She took the second step.

Were their ghosts following her, at this moment? Did they listen to her thoughts?

Did they know she fully intended to kill Kuzan at one point?

Robin broke into a sprint, racing to enter the thick forest. What she was running from, she did not know - she only knew that she had to get out of there, and fast. Tree branches whipped at her face and body as she ran, slowing her down ever-so-slightly. Even when she ran out of breath, she did not stop, for a childish fear of whatever could be behind her.

She thought of the sight of the warships, looming in the fog around Ohara. That. That was behind her.

What was ahead of her was unknown, and that scared her more than anything. Nico Robin was all alone in the world.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
